


Awning

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Sam weeds.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Awning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sam could probably get away with merely tending Bag End’s front end—Frodo is incredibly lenient with him, always praising him for his work whether he’s truly done a good job or not. But Sam adores Bag End almost as much as he adored Bilbo—nowhere near as much as he adores Frodo, because _nothing_ can come even close to that. He genuinely likes his job. He takes care of the entire hilltop if he can, including the sloping roof. He kneels over it and plucks out the weeds by hand, taking care to disturb as little as possible, so that Bag End continues looking just as pretty as it should. 

Then he hears the front door open, and Frodo emerges from under the sill, looking even prettier. He smiles up at Sam, dark curls tossing lightly in the midday breeze. The sun washes him in a warm glow, his smile always beautiful. He calls up to Sam, even though they’re not very far apart, “I think I’ll be dipping out to the market now. Would you like anything, while I’m there?”

Though Sam can hear perfectly well from where he is, he leans down over the roof, fingers curling around the ledge to steady himself. It seems only polite to get on Frodo’s level for a conversation, even if he can’t quite reach. He means to say ‘nothing’, because he gets terribly flustered whenever Frodo gets him anything, even if it’s only tea and crumpets. But instead, Sam blurts, “Actually, Sir, I could use a little encouragement, I think.” At Frodo’s surprised look, Sam explains, “It’s only that I’ve been weeding all morning, Mr. Frodo, and these infernal things seem to come back no matter how often I pluck them out!”

Frodo, kind, wonderful Frodo, asks, “Would you like some help, then?”

“No, no, that’s alright.” He’d never forgive himself if Frodo had to do his job. Frodo smiles sympathetically and nods. 

Then he glances across his doorstep, spotting and moving towards a nearby planter. He steps up onto the rim and uses it to lift up higher—he grips the edge of the roof and tilts in to peck Sam’s cheek. 

The kiss is quick, chaste, and somehow still enough to make Sam swoon. He almost topples right off the roof in an effort to get closer, but he catches himself just in time. Then it’s over.

As Frodo sinks back again, he says, “Best of luck, Sam. I know you can do it.” With another hearty smile, he climbs down and heads off towards the gate. 

Blushing hot, Sam redoubles his efforts to make Frodo’s roof as flawless as its master.


End file.
